


love, i don't feel so good

by masterrsloth



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, will add more tags as the work progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterrsloth/pseuds/masterrsloth
Summary: While mourning the end of his friendship with Geralt, Jaskier was determined to keep the distance from him while still traveling the northern kingdoms. Instead, he unexpectedly finds himself on the path to reconnect with his primordial nature, the one he tried so hard to erase in order to fit in with the humans and enjoy their worldly pleasures.It doesn’t make things easier when, years after the mountain and months after the fall of Cintra, an injured Geralt and his Child Surprise in hiding end up on his proverbial door and neither recognize him.~~~~Jaskier thought back to his old home. Back there everyone was deemed a protector of their Pass. But since leaving he hadn’t protected much of anything, just enjoying his travels and basking at the attention he gained performing with his lute. His peers would be ashamed.“You are very perceptive but this time you are wrong, I’m not a protector of anything. Haven’t been for a long time.”
Comments: 20
Kudos: 170





	1. if you forgot the rules, you can no longer play - part i

_‘It was a matter of time before this happened,’_ Jaskier thought as he arranged his bag in the camp he woke up earlier, before stumbling on the disaster that waited for him on the actual top of the mountain.

He knew his friendship with Geralt would not last. He was very surprised, really, that it had lasted this long at all. For too long Jaskier had kept things from the witcher for it to have a nice ending. What he didn’t expect was that the ending would come as collateral damage from Geralt and Yennefer’s stormy relationship.

 _‘It’s better this way,’_ he tried to convince himself while descending the mountain. He vaguely heard someone call his name as he power-walked down the path. Maybe by keeping this pace he wouldn’t have Geralt stumble upon him after he abandoned his brooding place at the top of the mountain. Maybe he could even get to the village in only one day.

By the time night started falling, Jaskier found himself near the entrance to a small cave considering if he should keep going instead of wasting time with a camp when someone grabbed him by his shoulder.

Traveling with Geralt and being famous as a witcher’s bard had made him overly confident over the years, which in turn made him easy prey to anything stealthier than your run of the mill road bandits – whom he could attest were actually not stealth at all for people whose main income depended on silently hiding in the bushes. So, instead of defending himself from the unfamiliar hand, he felt a yelp leave his mouth and almost tumbled to the ground.

Jaskier adjusted himself on his feet. It was Véa or Téa, he didn’t really remember which one bore which name. Borch right behind her.

“Are you planning on keep going during the night?” the man – ‘ _Dragon, actually,’_ Jaskier had to correct himself - was frowning.

Which was weird. Borch had more of a mysterious wise aura since he revealed himself as a golden dragon but right now, he sounded almost curious, despite clearly showing displeasure at Jaskier’s plan.

“It sounds like a completely reasonable idea to me! I don’t know why the disapproving tone,” Jaskier saw Borcher’s now sole bodyguard raise one of her eyebrows, “Besides, that’s no concern of yours and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Even to his own ears, the words sounded as mediocre excuses. His shoulder sagged and Jaskier’s eyes turned to linger on the cave as if analyzing it. He sighed.

“I suppose I could spare the night to rest. Not like I’d be able to see the trail or any danger at night with these lovely eyes I’ve been graced with.”

In less than an hour, he was settled inside the cave. Had he been alone he wouldn’t have gone very far from the entrance, but with Borch and Véa as companions, he soon found himself far enough that they managed to find a small corner where the light from the fire could barely be seen from the outside and the wind didn’t reach them even if it howled outside.

“Soo… what exactly do you want of me, Borch? Not that I’m not grateful for the fire - which, by the way, very neat trick that was! But I don’t see what interest you could have on me. Geralt made it _very_ clear he wants nothing to do with me anymore, and it’s not like I have any useful talents for a legendary dragon as yourself.”

“Then it is good I only want to have a nice chat with you, my boy. It seems-”

“ _Boy!_ ” Jaskier cried indignantly, “My sir, I’ll let you know that despite my youthful face – and body might I-”

Suddenly there was a sword pointed at him.

“Be respectful!”, the woman practically spits at him. Jaskier gulped feeling himself going almost cross-eyed with how close the curved sword tip was.

“Véa, it’s fine. You are going to scare _the boy_ away like that,” Borch told her and her sword went back to its sheath, but his eyes never left Jaskier’s face, now filled with something akin to mirth, “I’m not here to hire or threaten you, I’m merely curious. You feel different. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but…”

Borch’s words faded in the warm air. And Jaskier could not keep his eyes on him very long once he realized Borch was waiting for an answer to the unasked question.

“Hum,” it’s not like denying the ancient dragon’s implication would get him anywhere but he also did not feel like baring his nature to the elder, so _Geralting_ it was.

“I see. Well, that settles it. Where are you going next?”

Jaskier’s confusion with the sudden subject change must have shown because Véa left a snort escape.

“Don’t get me wrong, Borch, but shouldn’t you be with the egg instead of here chatting with me? I’m not important enough for you to miss the hatching of your dragonling.”

Borch smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes and the mirth was gone.

“You are not human,” Borch gazed into Jaskier’s eyes, “So you know the dangers non-humans incapable of defending themselves face traveling the continent. But even the lucky ones, like ourselves, who can amble along the paths without raising suspicions are susceptible to other classes of problems. The ones humans inflict upon themselves. And you, bard, hasn’t shown to be capable of defending yourself.”

“I can do some damage with a dagger, you know. Have done, even. Wouldn’t have survived as long if I couldn’t.”

“And how many people can you fight at once if you are ambushed?” Véa’s Common Speech carried a heavy accent, but she conveyed perfectly the meaning behind the words. Jaskier felt like a child.

Borch's gaze seemed lost in the bonfire’s amber but he kept talking.

“The dragonling’s mother has passed on but I’ll raise them to my best ability. At this moment, Téa and your witcher are keeping an eye out to any danger, the egg will not hatch for another couple of days. I travel the land to protect _my own_ kind in times of need. But I harbor no ill intent toward other species, and I enjoyed your presence on the track. I sense that despite not being capable of wielding weapons you too are a protector.”

Jaskier thought back to his old home. Back there everyone was deemed a protector of their Pass. But since leaving he hadn’t protected much of anything, just enjoying his travels and basking at the attention he gained performing with his lute. His peers would be ashamed.

“You are very perceptive but this time you are wrong, I’m not a protector of anything. Haven’t been for a long time.”

“I think the witcher would disagree. You’ve been taking care of him for a long time, that’s also a type of protection.”

Jaskier blushed at the dragon’s look.

“It’s not like that. I only worry about his lack of self-care with his wounds and, honestly, I don’t know why he keeps the long hair if he is incapable of properly taking care of it... Besides, I bet he would tell you my supposed protection, as you call it, was nothing but an inconvenience”

Borch’s amusement was back, this time followed by Véa’s. They enjoyed seeing him squirm, those bastards.

“Back to what I came here for, Véa will accompany you.”

“No.”

“You have no choice, _boy_ ,” Véa sneered with an ugly smile, “I answer to Villentrentenmerth only and he wants me with you.”

“Now that is settled, Véa will stay with you until you reach your next destination. After that, she’ll come back to me.”

“ _What?_ What do you mean _settled_ , I didn’t agree to any of it.”

“If it will make you feel better, you can pretend it’s just a coincidence she’s following in the same direction as you. But she will be your shadow for a while, you want it or not.”

Jaskier gapped at them. Was this how Geralt felt when he started following him around despite the hints to get lost?

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this, Borch.”

There was a glint of an emotion Jaskier could not decipher on Borch’s eyes, but it was gone by the time he answered.

“I have my reasons. Fate put you in my path when I was looking for the witcher, and I have a feeling the Lady would be unhappy if you were to get killed.”

That is how the next morning Jaskier was woken with a painful nudge on his ribs by an impatient Véa, Borch gone. Jaskier, with his colorful clothes and lute on the back, felt completely out of place walking beside the fierce zerrikanian warrior.

* * *

“You know there is a perfectly good road out of town, do you not?” Véa asked as she followed Jaskier to the scarce trees surrounding the village at the bottom of the mountain.

“Yes,” he answered but didn’t elaborate.

Jaskier didn’t feel like filling the silence as he usually did and Véa didn’t give any other input on his, quite frankly, poor attempt to navigate through nature. They kept like that, Véa following his lead as he grew increasingly frustrated tripping on twigs and flapping insects off his face until the sun was high in the sky.

The village had disappeared behind them hours ago as the number of trees increased and they found themselves deep into the woods. There was a high chance they were lost. Jaskier felt a heavy thing settling in his heart.

Geralt was right, he was useless. He was useless even where he should not be.

Jaskier kept going but now looking for a place to settle down. He wanted a little bit of time to wallow in self-pity. And he wanted to do that seating somewhere else that not the slightly humid ground they found after crossing the tree line into the forest – so very different from the arid vegetation that surrounded then up the mountain and around the village.

“Could you share your travel plans? I know you are not keen on my presence, but it’s been hours and we have been walking in circles for at least the last two,” Véa watched as Jaskier slumped deeper into the hands supporting his head and hiding his face from view.

Jaskier had sat on that tree trunk half an hour ago. She watched as he tried playing the lute for a while but gave up with a sigh not long after. Since then not a sound had left his person. And he seemed to shrink with every passing minute.

Something was wrong.

Despite looking the same, his presence felt nothing like the insufferable but amusing bard that flirted with her and her sister all the way to the ledge where they supposedly fell to their deaths.

Of course, she knew he was upset. What with the witcher yelling harsh words at him so loud that even she heard it from inside the cave where she was keeping guard on Villentrentenmerth's egg.

Still, the bard didn’t look like the kind to gloom about… and she wasn’t equipped to comfort any type of living creature, not with words or gestures, which made this whole ordeal more difficult than it had to be.

“Can you at least explain why we are in the middle of a forest instead of the road?”, that received a reaction.

The bard raised his head, still leaving his elbows propped on his knees, looked at her, and diverted his gaze to a nearby tree looking embarrassed. A feeble wind licked his hair, making some strands on the top of his head rise as if being lightly pat, but he didn’t take notice.

The bard mumbled something. She raised an eyebrow. Yeah, something definitely was wrong.

"Sorry, didn't hear you."

“I _said_ I didn’t want to meet Geralt.”

“So you have led us to the depths of a forest, got lost, and made us part of the menu choices of this place’s creatures just because you didn’t want to see the witcher?”

He sighed and looked at her defeated.

“You see, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” he threw one of his hands to the side in a flimsy gesture, “It’s not like you'll let anything happen to us”

Villentrentenmerth had said the bard was a singular creature, and yes, that was truly a singular way of making her mad. It was also with singular pleasure that Véa watched said singular creature give a terrified singular screech when her saber lodged itself on the wood right by his side.

“Are you mad?”, the bard asked with wide eyes as she pushed back her sword and aimed her next blow in his direction.

“Yes, Master Bard, as it happens I am very mad,” she felt amusement seeing him fall with a muted thud on the damp leaves while dodging her attack, “I think you need to learn that fighting is not as easy or as pleasant as your tavern performances for you to think so little of the perils in this forest.”

Jaskier crawled on the floor dirtying his clothes and dodging a couple more saber lunges before managing to properly put his foot under himself. The doublet was a loss at this point, having gained some small tears from the twigs on the grounds and a big one on the front from Véa’s saber.

They kept at it for a while, Véa lunging and Jaskier dodging, until she saw sweat start dripping down his temples. The bard was as red as a tomato.

She managed to position him between her and a tree, with no way of ducking out of her saber’s path for the last move when she saw a glint in his hand. She smiled at the dagger and at his disheveled face and flung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people!
> 
> It's been years since I last wrote fanfiction, so I'm a bit rusty. Still, I think this is actually good. It could've been a disaster.
> 
> This chapter isn't a complete chapter, I planned on doing it longer. But I got excited and wanted to see if anyone would be interested in the story so I kind of chopped it off in what I believe would be the middle, or near it (I haven't finished writing, you see).
> 
> Please leave a comment!
> 
> So, I'm sorry if this is a bit short on content since it isn't my whole planned chapter '^.^
> 
> See you guys next chapter!  
> (it might take a while, but there will be one)


	2. if you forgot the rules, you can no longer play - part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Véa travel together. Jaskier has a mild identity crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta, so I'm sorry for any grotesque mistake you might find '^.^

They settled in comfortable silence in front of the fire. The night hadn’t quite fallen yet, and they hadn’t made much progress since Véa all but attacked Jaskier, but both of them felt content. Surprisingly.

“I didn’t think you cared,” Jaskier said while turning the one hare Véa caught for them over the fire.

“I would hardly say keeping us nourished is caring more than a necessity,” Véa frowned to the meat as if it had offended her, “Food will be scarce until we find our way to a town unless you have knowledge on capturing birds with a sword.”

“Well, I don’t, and that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he smiled easy to Véa, who didn’t reciprocate, “Anyway, luckily for us, it’s summer. We only need a river and there will be plenty of fish.”

“That would only help if we reached a river first.”

“Yes, good point,” Jaskier smiled sadly to the fire, “See… that’s where I was trying to take us at first.”

Véa let out a small laugh. And Jaskier jokingly shushed her, his smile turning playful.

“I’m feeling quite less… indisposed now,” he tried bowing in Véa’s direction while sat, “Which is thanks to you, my lady.”

Véa rolled her eyes at his antics and scowled a little.

“Don’t call me a lady. I’m a warrior and have no interest in living at courts.”

Jaskier let out a laugh.

“As you wish, _dearest_ ,” there was a pointed look in his direction he ignored, “I think our meat is ready.”

They started eating. Jaskier was again lost in his thoughts when Véa brought his mind back to the present.

“It is what Téa and I do.”

“Sorry, I don’t…,” Jaskier tried to get a hint about what Véa was referring to from her expression, but there was nothing there. Only her staring at the campfire.

“Sparring. That’s what Téa and I do when feeling unwell.”

It seemed to Jaskier he was a magnet for people who didn’t like talking aloud about feelings. He smiled softly at her.

“Thank you. It really helped… after I realized you were not trying to murder me, that is.”

He saw a smile twitch in her lips and smiled softly at her. Maybe having a company while wallowing in misery wasn’t such a bad idea.

Early next morning, entering the clearing after foraging for some sort of breakfast, Véa found the most peculiar sight: the bard sunbathing in the shadows.

Limbs sprawled in all directions, eyes closed, only his briefs on.

Whatever this was, she did not want to know. Leave the musician to his… musician-ness? Her master said the bard was a singular creature but so far, he was turning out more of a peculiar human.

Véa started eating her portion of the food and, with nothing else to do, observed the other.

His body did not indicate any inhumane nature. Of course, she knew that meant nothing. Her own master chose to present as an elderly human male most of the time.

Véa did not know what gave the bard’s non-human nature away to her master. To her, he felt ordinarily human now and had felt the day before when they sparred. However, she knew better than to doubt Villentrentenmerth on these matters, he was ancient and had seen and lived more than her.

The only thing that hinted at abnormality was, perhaps, his unblemished skin, she noticed. No terrible scar to tell and no aging marks either. Looking like he was in his mid-twenties, maybe early thirties if she was generous, and yet she had first heard his song about the White Wolf around 18 years ago.

Except for that detail, even the strength and endurance matching hers he showed sparring yesterday could be explained, despite the not at all special slender muscles anyone living off traveling the lands could develop. With the right training, he could be a decent warrior, nothing inhuman there.

“Admiring the view, I see.”

Véa’s eyes abandoned Jaskier’s torso in favor of his face. His blue eyes were bright with amusement.

“Should have kept the clothes on if you did not want anyone looking.”

“Oh! I never said that. I love being appreciated by the eyes of beautiful people,” he smiled lasciviously and propped himself up in one arm when Véa didn’t answer but kept looking at his mouth, “Interested?”

Véa snapped out of her trance, raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and threw a small pouch his way.

“Eat. We need to leave soon,” and as he was opening her pouch she added, “Also, you now have fangs.”

Véa watched the contents of his small bag spill into the ground as the bard froze. Big eyes turning to her.

“What?”

“Fangs. And a little lisp.”

Jaskier raised his left hand letting his fingers trace his lips before slightly lifting the upper ones and touching each fang.

They were not big, Véa noticed, not small either. Almost imperceptible when Jaskier was talking. However, as soon as his teeth were borne in a smile there was no ignoring them, bigger and pointier than a human’s. There it was, proof that the bard was not human, not entirely at least.

“It was hard to find berries that were not poisonous,” she pointed to the fruits in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a crisis here if you haven’t noticed.”

“Why? Do you not like how they look? Is that why you hide them?”

“What? No!” he frowns, offended, “It just has been a while since they last decided to make an appearance.”

As if suddenly remembering something, he looked at his hands, turning them this way and that, searching. Pat his torso. Brought a lock of his hair as close to his visual field as possible and then passed his hands under them in the sides of his head.

Véa pops a berry in her mouth.

“Do I need to expect fangs sprouting in other parts of your body too?”

“Ha, ha! Very funny,” Jaskier says and starts collecting the contents from the pouch off the ground. After finishing, he let his body fall back into the ground and started to eat, eyes lost into the tree canopy.

They ate in silence for a while, the bard distant. A rustle brought her attention back to him and he was looking at her. He averted his gaze back to the trees.

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth, as if unsure of how to start whatever he wanted to say. He sighed, tiredly, and started talking.

“Yesterday, when I got us lost, I was trying to find the Braa river,” Jaskier glances her way, “It is, ah, this _trick_ I can do, you could say. I haven’t tried tapping into any of _that_ in a long time. Decades,” he goes silent again, “Yesterday, I tried, and couldn’t. Sometimes… sometimes it felt like I could almost reach the whispers of some…,” his right arm goes up in the direction of the canopy, as if trying to reach them, then let it fall in his chest again, “But, mostly, there was nothing.”

Véa did not understand exactly what the bard meant, that being said he was in a mood again, so she let him talk without any input from hers.

“I suppose I brought this upon myself,” he lets a long breath out and rubs his face, “When I started living amongst humans, I tried burying, hiding, everything non-human I had in fear of being discovered, but then, after a while, I decided that living as one of them was better than wasting my life hiding in the woods with my kind. By the time I started traveling with Ger- _the witcher_ , I only used my abilities to navigate around the Continent. After a couple of months by his side, I realized, well, humans can be _vicious_ too, and I wanted to protect him, even if distant. But I couldn’t. Almost everything was gone, as if I had been born human,” he lets a humorless smile in his face, “I suppose I deserved that, but, oh, ho, ho, was I angry! If my nature didn’t want _me_ , I didn’t want _any of it_ either and stopped reaching even for the things I still could do.”

“That seems stupid.”

“I know right? I’m paying for it now. I never thought one of us, my sort I mean, could be cut off like that,” he sits and closes the pouch, “Anyhow, the fact the fangs decided to make a presence probably means I was able to reach _something_ , and that something accepted me and reached back. Didn’t think I’d have to go basically naked in the woods for it to happen, but well, it worked. I’m pretty sure I can lead us to the Braa.”

Jaskier raised from the ground, put the pouch with a few berries still inside in his travel bag, and started putting his clothes back on. Véa noticed he kept barefoot, putting his boots hanging from the travel bag since there wasn’t space to put them inside.

Véa decided not to question it. This was to be a day of bardic – at least from this particular bard - oddness, it seemed.

* * *

As it turns out, they found the Braa.

Jaskier was particularly proud of that and sent his thanks to the flora behind them as Véa and he admired the stream. A breeze caressed his arm and through his bare feet, he felt a vibration that wasn’t physical as much as it was ethereal. An affected smile broke into his face. He turned to Véa.

“See? It worked.”

“I’m impressed,” and she really was.

After that, they took in the direction of Hengfors, with Jaskier leading. They made a point of making camp far from the waters as soon as night started falling. That made the journey longer and having much free time, Jaskier ended in some other sparring sessions with Véa, which she soon demanded to be turned into a fighting lesson.

Jaskier _could_ keep up with her for a while, longer than a human with his constitution could, he was sure, but it was a raw sort of strength. ‘ _Unfocused and untrained’_ , Véa had told to him. Except for his agility, which despite his lack of practice, sometimes made an appearance summoned from his training from decades ago, from when he was growing up and learning tricks in the Pass.

In one of these instances, where his body went on autopilot, his hands picked a long and thin branch fallen into the ground and brandished it like a staff, successfully diverging Véa’s sword and then hitting her side. The next day, Véa put her sword in his hands and began training him on the basics of sword fighting. Interestingly, it was his first time holding a sword not just for show.

Jaskier was… not happy exactly, but definitely content, cheerful even.

Then they reach Hengfors. And Jaskier thinks that’s where Véa would leave him. Instead, they stay together in town for two weeks.

“Where are you going from here?” she asked him one morning while strapping her light armor to go out in the streets. Véa had dropped her single room and decided to share one with Jaskier after he spent three days straight locked inside his own, not leaving even for food.

It was a weird arrangement, Jaskier spent his days only on his briefs, dressing up and leaving the room only to eat in the main room, and Véa slept on her underclothes with her unsheathed sword propped on the bedside, in case an invader decided it was a good idea to rob them.

“I don’t know,” he was having a mild crisis ever since they found civilization again. He couldn’t sing, afraid someone would notice his fangs. And the city environment, in general, was making him nauseous.

He wanted to lay low for a while, as he did during winters. Lick his wounds holed up in the Academy. But if Oxenfurt made him feel anything like Hengfors, maybe it was best he turned into a forest hobo.

One sleepless night, looking through the window to the mountains far from the city, Jaskier felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. He was born a free soul, not meant to be caged like that, not even by his own hands.

His peers didn’t understand his inability to stay put in their corner of the Continent. Their Pass was freedom to them, far from humans, and only disturbed by travelers or hunters they easily disposed of. But he had hope whatever being - if it was a being at all - ruled their nature understood.

Closing his eyes and resting his head on the dirty glass he whispered, _“Please, help me. I can’t go on like this.”_

The next couple days the dread in his stomach grew as he watched his ears turn pointy. That _was not_ what he meant when he pleaded to something out there to help him.

“At least you have an excuse for the fangs now,” Véa said putting a tray with bread and cheese on the small table between the beds, “We can say you are of elven descent… _Are you_ of elven descent?”

“Elves don’t have canines, much less fangs, Véa!” Jaskier snarled, making his fangs stand out.

It was like Véa didn’t understand what this meant. He couldn’t keep the life he built in the last twenty-something years looking as he was now; he saw what humans did to the different, he would lose _everything_ like this. Courts were out of the question and the Oxenfurt Academy, despite its progressive views, only accepted humans as professors, and that was the closest he had to a home away from the roads.

“I will take that as a no,” she sat on her bed analyzing his gaunt appearance, “You have been hiding here the whole week. You need some sun. And a bath. Those ears are a good thing. Tomorrow you can still continue buried in misery, however, I will order a bath to be prepared. And you _will_ take it. Use all your fancy salts if you have to. After, you will start accompanying me on the errands I am running for Villentrentenmerth. Elves don’t have fangs, but it is common knowledge their descendants with humans can present deformities.”

Should Jaskier feel insulted that Véa called him deformed and smelly or grateful for knowing this was her way of caring for his well being? He didn’t know. He was tired. Maybe doing things Véa’s way would improve his disposition of facing the world as the creature he was... partly at least.

Everywhere they went, Jaskier was ignored or mistaken as Véa’s pet or servant. After the fourth refusal of service to him, Véa stopped sending him to places alone. Trying to use him to help with the errands in the hopes that they would be finished faster had been a clever idea, if the humans had collaborated it would have worked.

Once, Véa insisted he plays in a tavern. The ending was rather reminiscent of his first meeting with Ger- the White Oaf ( _yes_ , a bad pun to help him deal with the pain), what with the food being flung in his direction. Different from twenty years ago, though, Véa unsheathed her sword and, well, in essence, robbed the audience’s coin.

That didn’t improve his morale, but they shared quite a few laughs.

Their last day in Hengfors, Jaskier woke up with Véa kicking the room’s door open. In her hands were two packages she delivered to Jaskier. The bigger one, almost as tall as him, contained a staff and the other a feathered bonnet.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

Véa gave him a sarcastic smirk.

“Well, the staff is for fighting. I saw how you defended yourself that day with the branch, you obviously had some training. There is also the benefit that a bard doesn’t carry swords. A 'walking stick' on the other hand is a little strange but so are many of the traveling bards. And the bonnet, if you let your hair grow a bit longer, will help in hiding those pointy things you have on the sides of your head.”

Jaskier rummaged his bags until he found a hand mirror, put the bonnet on, and looked at his reflection.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You always look ridiculous.”

A smile broke into his face.

“That’s true,” he adjusted the bonnet and smiled. The fangs were still a problem, but he could say a mage was responsible for it after he did something stupid that angered them. It wasn’t far from true things that happened before. “Thank you. Again.”

* * *

During their travels after Hengfors, Jaskier ended up training alone with the staff when Véa wasn’t teaching him one of the many ‘easy’ ways a beginner could incapacitate an enemy with a sword.

The wood object had been his first and only weapon when living in the Pass. Remembering the steps from his training as a youngling was no trouble, what _was_ difficult was making his body match the movements in his memories. Nonetheless, Jaskier didn’t care. He felt closer to his kind when training with it.

Yeah, sometimes he hit himself, adding to the bruises from Véa’s training. But letting his mind blank was good, and training with the staff gave him that. Maybe that's what the White Oaf felt when meditating, Jaskier had tried it once with him and couldn't stay still. With the staff, on the other hand, he was moving but the concentration on the movements left little space for his mind to wander into unwanted thoughts.

At first, he wouldn’t admit that Oxenfurt was where his feet were taking him. Still, in his heart, he knew that was the only place he could relax despite his fears of being thrown out when they saw his fangs (and ears if he messed up and let someone see them). So, in that direction they went, and, by the time they were on the boat that sailed the Pontar crossing from Temeria to Redania at every stop, there was no denying that was to be his last destination for the next months.

Véa spent only enough time in the city to see him get settled before bidding him goodbye. Oxenfurt wasn't nearly as bad for him as Hengfors had been, yet three months was the time it took for his feet to start itching for some traveling again.

He left Oxenfurt without a clear path, only taking note of which way to go when he found rumors of a witcher. He didn’t deign to know _which_ witcher, better not to pry and make his heart clench harder, only take the opposite direction.

Eventually, he found himself on the back of a wagon, staff and lute by his side, entering Cintra. Because why not? It’s not like there was a queen out for witcher and related people blood who could order him beheaded and a child shaped reminder of the White Oaf there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long guys, but I had a huge writer's block in many parts of this chapter.
> 
> I want to let y'all know I have this fic planned until the 4th chapter (5th if you keep in mind I divided the first one in two). But I haven't written any of it and I write slow. I don't plan on going over 10 chapters, but I think this won't stop me from taking longer than I thought writing them.
> 
> Anyways, hope I didn't info dump anything on you guys. There were parts I had to rewrite a lot because it was becoming so booooring. Also, I had to rush the last bit a little because I was tired of coming back to tweak and needed to finish this chapter already.
> 
> Like, I can see the chunks of paragraphs morphing into different stiles as I get stuck. Still, I really wish y'all like this.
> 
> See you next chapter! :D
> 
> Please, leave comments!!! I would be really glad to know what you guys think of this story ^.^


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